“As soon as the wick’s gone, it’s going to come back,” I say.
“I know.”
We carry each other’s gazes as the flame burns, casting a glow across our faces.
He abruptly stands up, sets the candle aside on the nightstand, and places his hands on my cheeks. Looking deeply into my eyes, his lips part. “I love you, Gemma Lucas. Always have. Always will.”
My heart slams to a stop inside my chest, but instantly recovers, beating more steady and even than it ever has.
I open my mouth to say something, but the words are thick in my throat. I struggle to say something—do anything—but I don’t have the prickle to guide me, and it leaves me so confused.
But I’m quickly distracted as Alex kisses me with such passion I swear to God I’m going to pass out.
“Come here,” he says, pulling me onto his lap.
I put a leg on each side of him and grind my hips against his, groaning as his hardness presses against my legs. God, I want him more than I can even comprehend. His hands wander up and down my back then grip my ass, pressing me closer, but it’s not enough. Nothing feels like it’ll ever be enough when it comes to him.
Groaning, he bites my bottom lip, his fingers delving downward as he struggles to keep himself in control.
“I feel like, at any moment, I’m going to go too far,” he whispers, digging into my flesh as he trails kisses down my jawline and neck.
“Alex,” I gasp as his hand glides up my shirt, and his fingers graze across my nipple. “I’m . . . pretty sure the candle’s . . . working. You don’t have to . . . hold back.”
He pauses, gently stroking my nipple. Then something snaps inside him, and with one swift motion, he has me flipped over onto my back. His body covers mine, his arms bearing his weight as he grinds against me. I open my legs and let him fall between them then move my hips with his. We stay like that for a few minutes, our hips moving rhythmically as our tongues tangle, until we become breathless. Then Alex moves back, but only to remove my jeans and shirt before returning his lips to mine.
The longer he kisses me, the more I feel like my body’s going to explode. I want more—need more.
I gently push him back, and he bites back a smile as I nearly rip his shirt off. My hand promptly skates down his rock solid chest to the top of his jeans. I undo the button and pull down his jeans.
He leans back to kick them off before returning his body to mine. Instead of kissing me, he stares down at me, stroking his fingers across my cheekbone.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he says then lowers his lips to mine. “I’m never going to let anything happen to you. I promise.”
Before I can argue, he seals his mouth to mine again and kisses me so slowly, so deliberately I swear I’m going to burst into flames. The longer the kiss goes on, the more I tumble into a world that doesn’t really exist, where he and I can be together, where the world doesn’t end, where we don’t die. I’m playing with fire—I know this—because when it all comes down to it, the flame will eventually burn out and so will this world.
But I’m not ready to let go just yet.
I slip my fingers through his and pull him closer, needing him more than I ever have.
Minutes drift by, maybe hours, where we simply kiss, our lips exploring every inch of each other. When he finally pulls back again, he strips off the rest my clothes. Then he kicks off his boxers and lowers his lips to my leg
“I love you,” he keeps whispering as he kisses a path up my thigh to my stomach. “I love you so much.”
My toes curl as I slip my fingers through his hair, my back arching off the mattress. His kisses are driving me mad, but not as much as his words. I want to say it back—the words are on the tip of my tongue—but I’m so afraid, if I do, the candle might stop working. I’m afraid it might make dying harder, afraid of saying something so emotionally meaningful.
When his lips find mine again, he slips his fingers deep inside me, and I can scarcely breathe. His fingers and lips feel me thoroughly, and the longer it goes